


be alright

by pulisics



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Crying, Football, Heartbreak, M/M, Post-Break Up, Social Media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 14:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17490032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulisics/pseuds/pulisics
Summary: "it doesn't matter, put the phone away"orin which dejan has moved on, šime is still hurting, and ivan and brozo are just trying to be good friends





	be alright

**Author's Note:**

> i had much greater plans for this but couldn't put them in words so it is what it is. this work was heavily inspired by dean lewis' song "be alright". 
> 
> english is not my first language and i'm always open to criticism. 
> 
> enjoy :)

The locker-room was loud and buzzing with the excited shouts and off tune singing. 

Šime's chest was hurting and he felt as if all oxygen has left his body. His insides felt raw and nausea swirled in his empty stomach. It seemed as if somebody was ripping him open from the inside, as if he was falling apart.

Cold sweat ran down his pale forehead and the noise in his head managed to block out the sounds around him until they were nothing but a mumbled echo. He was supposed to celebrate the latest win with his teammates, jump around, cheer and take way too many pictures with a bright smile on his face, but he couldn’t.

The phone was shaking in his hand as he blankly stared at the picture displayed on it. It was the only thing that he could focus on - the bright smile on his ex-lover’s face and the familiar sparkle in his eyes. This time it was reserved for somebody else, another man who smiled at him like Šime did and touched him like Šime did and maybe even loved him like Šime did. Who was he kidding? Nobody could love him like Šime did.

He didn’t have the right to feel like this, after all, it wasn’t Dejan’s fault. He didn't blame Dejan for deciding that he suddenly wasn't good enough. Didn't blame him for using the fact that he doesn't want Šime to have to go through the pain of a long distance relationship as the only reason for their breakup. He also didn't blame Dejan for replacing him with somebody else, somebody closer, somebody better. It wasn't his fault that he moved on quickly, while Šime was stuck on replaying the same scenes in his head over and over again and wondering where he went wrong.

Šime blamed himself for opening the stupid app, for feeling the need to check on Dejan all the time, and - most importantly - for still caring about him.

 

 

Ivan felt as if something was missing. The room was buzzing with sound but it didn't feel right. He looked around and saw a figure sitting in the corner of the changing room with slumped shoulders. It didn't take him long to realize that the mop of wet curly hair belonged to Šime. He excused himself and quickly walked towards his friend. 

“What happened?” 

Šime raised his downcast eyes and Ivan could see a hint of red in them. His friend turned around the phone that he was holding with a shaking hand and waited for Ivan’s reaction. Ivan was met with a picture of two smiling figures, dressed in red, and wrapped around each other. He shook his head sadly and crouched down to hug Šime’s shivering body. Šime leaned his head against his shoulder, leaving a damp spot where his cheek rested, and Ivan began to gently play with his curls. 

“I know dragi, it will be alright.” He lifted his gaze, just to check if anybody else has noticed them, and was met with Marcelo’s concerned one. 

He motioned for Marcelo to come over. The latter nodded his head, quickly excused himself from the conversation he was in and jogged over.

He couldn’t see Šime’s expression, but he could see Ivan who just mouthed  _Dejan_ and confirmed Marcelo’s suspicions. He frowned at Ivan and crouched next to the pair to kiss the top of Šime’s head. Ivan mouthed  _phone_ this time, and Marcelo carefully took it out of Šime’s hand.

“Give it back, I need it!” Šime tried to fight. Ivan just hugged him a bit tighter and softly told him to calm down.

“No, it doesn't matter, you’re going put it away. Actually, I’m going to put it away right now.” Brozo said and walked away in the direction of his bag.

“Ivan please...” Šime lifted his head and Ivan almost flinched after seeing how broken the younger one looked. 

“It’s for the best”, he said and placed a quick kiss on Šime’s forhead, “you know that we only want the best for you.”

“I do", Šime mumbled and looked at Ivan sadly "but I don't have him anymore.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it! it was way too short and probably a bit disappointing but yeah... kudos and comments are always appreciated <3
> 
> if you wanna say hi, you can find me on tumblr @asensihoe


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